


Merry-Go-Around In Life

by pandemnium



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1900s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Photographer!Daenerys, Shopkeeper!Jorah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29925054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandemnium/pseuds/pandemnium
Summary: Merry-Go-Around in Life;  the endless circulation of the everlasting stages in life. Of encounter, of tryst, of departure;  it's an endless circulation of life.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont & Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Kudos: 6





	Merry-Go-Around In Life

**_MERRY-GO-AROUND IN LIFE_ **

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Setting in 1900s London, United Kingdom where Daenerys is a " photographer " who works for Jorah, a shopkeeper of cameras.

English isn’t my first language thus please forgive some of my grammar mistakes here and there.

Written by **_pandemnium_**

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**London. Late 1880s-Early 1900s.**

Merry-Go-Around in life; the endless circulation of the everlasting stages in life. Of its thunderous birth in joviality coruscating from laughter bombinating the room as it melts the agitation piercing into souls of those attended the birth, of expecting the little babe wouldn’t be alive, despite the mother has lost so much blood for her, only to be defeaned by a single sigh emitted from the withered soul to the new profound babe within her arms, the laughter had died, and so did the lives who had been touched by the babe’s mother because she had been the reason for others to stay alive in inexplicable poverty, of two sons who mourn in grief but happiness lingers within their eyes as they witness their new sister whom shared their mother’s smile; Merry-Go-Around in Life, from the birth to death, they go around in endless circles of happiness to grief to happiness once more.

Merry-Go-Around in Life; the wooded horses mounted by those who deemed worthy before, only to be replaced by mere quarters of coins to mount its stable, laughter once more bombinating in circle, of happiness succumbing them from the bleak reality that the daughter had spent their last money for wasteful momentary bliss, such an imprudent child who hasn’t grown in circle but remains stagnant in the centre of a circle because she refuses to move when her brothers had grown from their childish capers, regardless one of them had foolishly smitten by a lord’s daughter, whom he bestowed a marriage upon, only to be taken by demise as a life breathes into a child, two sacrifices made for one child who had been taken away and the daughter and the youngest brother had gone Merry-Go-Around in Life once more, witnessing the birth of existence and the death of existence.

Merry-Go-Around in Life; the exhilaration of jingles frolic in ears as it thaw her cries of exasperation, of her hatred upon the life that has been given to her, of the constant mockery intertwined within screams from the brother that she shouldn’t have had lived because she is a mere useless child, a thief of dearly beloved life. And yet, the flame within her is merely ignited, a dragon shan’t be tamed but tampered by perseverance that she shall prove she doesn't waste the life from her mother’s breathes, of her reluctance compliance to temporary submission to the brother wishes to avoid the vile tantrums and abuse, only to be lured into unhappiness.

Merry-Go-Around in Life, she once more going in circle of momentary glee of youth, anticipating the gaiety of marriage the tales oft romanticized ! as the story begins with the death of the mother who birthed the main character who will be tormented by her relatives, to be rescued by a knight in a white stallion. But, unbeknownst to her, the stallion isn’t white, but dark, as dark as his hair, as dark as his past, as dark as his job, as dark as his crimes; of the controversies and demise and butchery upon his hands and she is his victim now. A victim of the endless circle in life, of its hypnosis that lulled her into marriage, into endless terrors that shall be pacified into twisted contentment as she remains stagnant in the centre of the circle, of trying to be unafraid of her husband in their wedding night, yet a Merry-Go-Around in Life stops for awhile, as it awaits for another passenger to enter into her life, and unexpectedly, it is the conductor of this once continuous circle.

Merry-Go-Around in Life; he shouts to her, or did he say, “A small gift from a shopkeeper,” Yet it isn’t a small gift from a man who merely takes picture of the couple in their wedding in the park, she wouldn’t consider it as a small gift when she sees a valuable Contessa Camera in his hands, openingly inviting her into its indisputably charm she couldn’t fathom before as she is a mere young woman who is intrigued by the developments that been going on in the centre of the world, of the art that has gradually shifted and she silently takes pleasure in it.

The laughter has visited her once again, the unexpected jubilation of anticipation in the little device that she clings into it steadfastly, muttering her squeaking gratitude that makes the shopkeeper bashfully smitten by her youth, shaking his own foolish yet ardent longing to make acquaintances of her yet only to be deprived by the groom who steal her away from him; the villain of temptation, the tint of memories within the film he has shared to her, going circle once more in their everlasting Merry-Go-Around in Life when the conductor begins to paddles his sorrow in merry songs and horses dancing in exuberance, he has disappeared yet she clings to the momento, regardless of the moment hasn’t been captured by her device, but captured by her eyes and heart.

Merry-Go-Around in Life; the narrator sells the exaggeration of ecstasy of going circling atop of the horses, as if you’re the centre of the universe, of the horde that marches into conquer of unknown conquest but euphoria, however it merely transient as other stages shall be perceived, once merriment shall be shifted into desolation, of contentment shall be changed into mourning; as once she has settled down from her terror from her husband, she has accepted her fate once more, contented shamefully into exhilaration of attention because her moon gravitates towards her; unknowingly softened under her touch yet still rugged but undoubtedly tamed by the dragon.

The circle of life keeps continue unwillingly, as the elation shall be dissipated as she thought she shall give her breath into the babe within her arms, only to be replaced by her husband’s calloused hands clutching upon the newborn babe in demise, of two embracing death together into paradise; a token remembrance of her oldest brother and his wife sacrifice to make their babe alive, however they give life to Daenerys, to new profound life without anyone she knows before but a momento within her grasp, untouched yet remembered by its value and bashful simper lingers, because the gift was expensive, because the gift was valuable, as it holds a dear memory of a man that bestows her gift to life, to the passion she has abandoned once she gets pregnant, the unprinted memories preserved within the film and her mind, contently soothe her grief as she seeks, and seeks, and seeks for the gifter, for the conductor of her Merry-Go-Around in Life.

Merry-Go-Around in Life as the waltzing shall continue once more when she enters the stage of its merriment once more, of the finality of her quest to search the conductor of their play, the memories preserved within her film yet untouched by others as there’s a missing piece in her equipments to print the memories, and she knows, the gifter is the missing piece of her equipment and her next stage of the eternal circle.

She cheers in jubilation, the same youthful squeak of excitement within her alluring countenance that enticed him into bewitchment, the same dimples coruscating from her face as she finds her, on the corner of the street in London under the shop “ _Merry-Go-Around in Life”_ with a drawing of roll of film. Merry-Go-Around in Life, the memories preserved within the roll of film, the felicity lingers upon the tint of photos, the hesitant smiles that oft bespeaks as a sign of lunacy, yet she knows it’s a mere derogatory jest to someone’s happiness, as there wasn’t joy within her father’s cruel stories spoken by others, regardless they call him as a lunatic, but she knows he might never had smiled before, just like the way she smiles upon him in euphoria of satisfaction, of finding its end yet it merely a beginning to everlasting delirium,

“Welcome to _Merry-Go-Around in Life_ ,” He bashfully smitten once more with the merriment lingers within her hues, sciliating in youthful delight and he gets blinded from it, bowing his head courteously, as his attention diverts from the sun to the moon rest within her embrace, of the device he reckons, just like he acknowledged her from a year ago, only to be driven further into her bliss once more as she squeaks in anticipation, yet forlorn lingers; a jarring paradox of their first meeting before, of the apprehension drowns her excitement thus he remedy it once more, before someone might steal her away from him once more, “May I help you, Miss Targaryen ?”

Merry-Go-Around in Life, she thought to herself, as she didn’t expect that he would know her name, as they haven’t been properly introduced yet _he knows her name._ It somehow sends butterflies within her abdomen, in lieu of soothing her apprehension. Timid young woman, the young lady bashfully bowing her head, following the man’s action as they go to their Merry-Go-Around, mimicking each other movement in proximity of inclination, of the dance they share unknowingly and both takes pleasure upon the momentary indulgence, of staring each other in awe, preserving the moment in enticement, for what is falling, if not catching each other within telltale embrace of their budding exhilaration ? Lured by the moment they’ve shared before in brief encounter, prolonged in hesitancy of besotted, muttering its careful words pondered within mind, to be revealed hopelessly, 

“I would like to sell the camera you’ve given me,” She starts, shamefully as if it was a sin to refuse the happiness the camera had brought her, with the lives of her husband and her babe preserved within roll of film, a post-mortem picture to perceived the momentary bliss it had given to her; an inexplicably momentum she couldn’t afford as she has nothing garments to be sew, “I only take a picture of my husband and my son, I believe it is in good condition.”

“It is. I can see it from here, just like the way I left it for you,” He replies, taking the device into his hands as he examined it carefully, digits brushing upon the wooden surface and the lens of the camera, believing it hasn’t been touched for so long, regardless of it’s only a mere year from her wedding.

Merry-Go-Around in Life, the uncanny circulation of happiness coruscating from wedding to grief tainted the memories, the stages of life preserved within the roll as it merely show two pictures of her life: happiness and death, two stages in life she only knew in transient life, as a breath of life given from someone, to be perceived in stagnancy of its center, as she mournfully avoiding his judgement, dipping her head forlornly, hiding her beauty he actually seeks before he takes the camera and focusing it upon her face, muttering the small _smile_ to her, to change the preserved mourning to preserve happiness once more,

“There, that’s more like it,” There’s more life within the roll, he thought to himself, “I don’t think you should sell it to me, Miss Targaryen, there’s still a lot to be captured in your device, the world has full of subjects to be seen.”

“But you don’t understand, I don’t have the money to develop the films, regardless of there’s so much to see in this world, as you say, I don’t have the equipment to develop it.” She argues, dragon’s temper challenged in futile bicker when her temperance is resolute, persistent on making herself less and less in front of him with the head that once held high when she speaks to him dipped by his perplexed visage, only soon to be altered into a small chuckle rumbling from his throat; the rumbles she never heard before, but it excites her doubtfully and ashamedfully,

“Why didn’t you say so ? I can give you the equipment to develop the films,” He gestured upon the devices upon the shelves, warmfully beaming to her in reassurance, “Or better yet, you can bring the films to me and I shall develop it on my own.”

“Why, I cannot possibly !” Stomping her foot on the ground, before realizing her childish demeanor lain in front of him, yet he didn’t laugh or sneer upon her sudden reaction, only to be remedied by his head tilted in intrigue to see hear her elaboration, “As I said before, I don’t have the money to pay you to develop my pictures-- as much as I want it, I cannot possibly do that to you.”

“Miss Targaryen, it’s not much, believe me,” Emphasizing upon her name, the apprehension melts from Daenerys, only to be changed by vexation because they both stubbornly humble to themselves, calloused hand o’ering in the zephyr, amiably luring her into enticement as an idea comes to his mind after mulling upon the solution because she seemed doesn’t want to back out from her persistence, and so does he,

“How about this, you take pictures and bring it to me. I shall pay you for the pictures you’ve taken, when you have enough money to develop it on your own. You can repay me.”

“ ... so, I’m working for you ?”

“. . . you could say that.”

And there was silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable silence, but a moment of tranquility, of a resolve upon the unexpected arguments that only lasted for mere minutes, of two fools standing smitten and bashful by each other, perceiving each others in their eyes, taken into heart, preserved in life. It’s merely a prelude to their friendship, relationship or even companionship, however neither of them could foresee the future that lain upon their laughing lines, as laughter erupted in jubilation, prolonging the contentment they both never had before as two of them had never been foolishly smitten with each other, as they always been platonic infatuation open others but never been reciprocate.

The Merry-Go-Around is going into a circle once more, to the never ending waltz of merriment bombinating betwixt laughter and anticipation. Daenerys Targaryen softened under this stage of life, accepting the fate that may have come to her through the conductor of her Merry-Go-Around, the nameless person she ought to know and preserved in her memory, of a man who makes her happy for once,

“Very well, Mister --”

“Mormont, Jorah Mormont.”

“Sir _Jorah Mormont,_ I like that.”

“I like yours too, Miss Targaryen.”

**Author's Note:**

> A burnt out thing I wrote because it keeps appearing in my mind. You would see the reference I might us on the parallelism of Merry-Go-Around and Roll Film etc because it's been bothering me and I finally wrote it. THUS IM SORRY FOR GRAMMAR MISTAKE. would accept beta to fix it 🥴. 
> 
> Expect the fic would to 2 chapter or 3 chapter depends on how long I will write the second chapter ( this one is already 2k I thought it was just 500 wtf )


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